


The Prince of Alvarez

by La_Saffron



Series: The Lives of the Spriggan Twelve [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anger, Angst, Crying, Daddy Issues, Disappointment, F/M, Gen, Hate, Heartbreak, Insanity, Jealousy, Magic, Possible Romance, Revenge, Teasing, Unrequited Love, Zervis if you Squint, kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Saffron/pseuds/La_Saffron
Summary: What does one expect from an unloved child of an immortal, all-powerful emperor? Desperation.





	1. Audience with Pleasure

“The magic that constitutes itself in one’s body…” the young boy read loud enough to hear himself. His light eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as his eyes flitted over the ancient language of the casting book he currently held in his palm. “Must be associated with human emotions to reach its full potential.”

 

Rahkeid frowned. Human emotions? Twisting a light blond strand between his fingers, Rahkeid re-read the line he just decoded, making sure he had interpreted it correctly. No, that letter with branch like arms and two stairsteps translated as ‘human’ in his notes taken from Lord August’s teachings.

 

Human...emotions?

 

Turning to the ceiling, the young prince laid back in his velvet cushion, settling his book down on the copper table and gripping the armrests gently. What did the casting book mean by ‘human emotions’? Why specifically human? Was there some special connection between magic and natural-born reactions from humans that made spell-casting strong enough to reach its supposed full potential?

 

“So many questions, young man.” A deep, wise voice orated from behind Rahkeid. The young boy jumped a little at the sudden sound interrupting his thoughts. He lifted his black eyes to meet with the red ones of the Magic King, August. 

 

“Ah,” Rahkeid stood and bowed to his mentor and teacher. He rose to smile up at the elderly man slightly. Fiddling with his pendant, the young boy shyly glanced down at his collarbone. The older man waited patiently. “Well, child? Speak.”

 

“My lord…” Rahkeid started, but was interrupted by a hand. “Ah, yes, I forgot. I should call you August, should I not?”

 

August blinked. “It is not a matter of ‘should’, boy. You ‘must’ acknowledge me as but a mere servant to your father’s offspring and nothing more. Now then,” Red eyes scanned the prince’s desk, eyeing the neatly stacked papers and several thick books opened and unfinished with bookmarks stuck between countless pages. “I take it you have finished your studies for today?”

 

A confused glint appeared in Rahkeid’s eyes. “ Lord August?”

 

August took a few quiet steps towards Rahkeid’s desk, tapping his staff along to his walking rhythm. He thrust an outstretched palm towards the book Rahkeid had settled down a few moments ago. A white aura surrounded the book and levitated towards the old man. Once it was settled into August’s palm, the Magic King studied the lines Rahkeid had tried to interpret with the help of other books at his disposal.

 

How utterly insignificant he felt.  
While Rahkeid was studying magic books and cooped up in a palace he covered 5% of in his entire life, other students of Lord August, like Brandish, Lady Eileen, and Dimaria, were practicing magic on levels he could never begin to comprehend. Their magic levels exceeded the expectations of that of his father...and Zeref was more than pleased at the result.

 

More magic was always better. Although Zeref had never personally taught Magic to Rahkeid, the prince felt a special connection to his father. After all, he was the offspring of the Emperor of Alvarez. What a supreme honor!

 

But...no one acknowledged him as the sired heir to the throne because there would be no need for any heir. The Emperor himself was immortal. What good was a son?

 

“Rahkeid.”

 

Blinking his long white lashes, the young prince looked up at the towering man above him. Something in August’s eyes told him that he had probably read his thoughts at this point and was ready to contradict him on his senseless fantasies.

 

“Forgive me, teacher.” August’s eyes dimmed a bit. He sighed deeply and settled the book he held naturally onto the copper surface once more. 

 

“My boy, you know very little of this world and its possibilities.” August gripped his staff tighter, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling. “I suppose it’s time we teach you to practice in the art of Magic.”

 

Rahkeid’s heart lifted. His eyes shone brighter and his smile grew with each passing second. Even his brilliant pastel hair seemed to glow with ecstasy. “Oh, Lord August, do you mean it?”

 

August grinned. “I don’t see why not. You’ve mastered reading the ancient language with a single book, and you rarely use it when interpreting the ancient text. You have also shown to be diligent in understanding and recognizing most of the magics of Earthland...but your fantasies…”

 

Rahkeid gulped a little too audibly. The Magic King was right; his dreams of Heavenly attributes and granting pleasure to sinners...it was all a little too much for a thirteen-year-old boy. He lowered his eyes, ashamed of his teacher’s discovery to his incoherent dreams, but he was not ashamed of fantasizing them. Constantly.

 

“It is very strange…” August stroked his snowy beard thoughtfully, as any old man would do. “You are, indeed, a young prodigy in the art of Magic, just like your father.”

 

My father…

 

“Come now. It’s time for you to start your training in the Magic of…” August turned to walk behind the ebony curtains, but stopped to swivel his head to meet his gaze with the young prince. He waited for the prodigy’s answer.

 

“Pleasure.” August raised an eyebrow, but said nothing against the prince’s answer. “I want to have the power that will impress all, even my father. I want to reach a level on which you, Lord August, Lady Eileen and the other Spriggan have reached. Please.”

 

A fleeting moment of silence passed by slowly. Rahkeid did not know if this was August’s Slowing Magic was at work or simply his anxiety taking over his mind and concept of time. August turned his back to the prince, his tattered cloak sweeping over the floor ever so gracefully. He seemed to be in deep thought. Even for someone like August, this was concerning.

 

Finally, Rahkeid heard a chuckle and saw August shaking his head faintly. “Yes, you are very much like your father. Come,” the Magic King paused. “Prince of Alvarez.”

 

This was perhaps the last time Rahkeid had ever felt true joy in a very long time.  
~


	2. They Call her the Nation Demolisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interaction with the other Spriggan would have been resourceful, had one woman not captured his attention...and enraptured his desires.

Five years later…

Rahkeid passed through the halls of his own section of the palace, which was only 5% of the marvelous fortress that was the pride of Vistarion. After scavenging his section since birth, one ought to think that Rahkeid would be weary of the same design following him around wherever he went, but on the contrary the young prince found himself fascinated with the way the palace was constructed and outlined to the smallest feature.

Though he was born with immense power surging through his very fiber of existence, Rahkeid lacked the ability to control this vast amount of energy. He smiled. Perhaps this had to do with the fact that both parental sides are powerful Magic wielders.

But still…

The power of light within him was recognized at a young age despite his prodigious mind. The people of the palace realized this quick. The servants could not outwit the child of the emperor. He was quicker and more strategically thoughtful than many of them combined. Soon enough, the child was dubbed ‘The Prince of Alvarez.’ And rightfully so.

The prince learned the ways of adults since the meager age of three. How they acted when furious; the language they used to speak to children; their motives for desire. Adults often times acted stupid towards children, thinking that these younglings did not catch onto acts or words spoken around them.

As always, they learned their lesson with Rahkeid. The young prince spoke wise words to those who would accept it and slandered those fools who ridiculed the empire, when forgetting that they were only there under the gracious courtesy of Zeref. Had they not been under his protection, Ishgar would not take these fleeing traitors back into their wing.

The palace staff understood the concept of respecting the prince. It was mostly due to the Magic King ordering them to do so, but children will be children. Rahkeid was treated according to his title and more, but it was not enough.

Rahkeid would never be satisfied until his father sent a pleased smile his way and praise him.

Never.

Now, at the ripe age of eighteen, Rahkeid wandered through the hallways leading to the Vistarion’s magnificent gardens. Ever since he attended August’s magic lessons, the old man insisted that the duo study and practice in the gardens. The fresh air definitely cleared Rahkeid’s mind and gave him a stronger connection to nature...and his emotions.

Green hair.

Rahkeid blinked out of his thoughts and memories to turn his head towards the greenette. The young woman walked towards him with a proud stride. Her clad heels clicked down onto the marble floors with every step she took.

As per usual, she wore nothing but a burgundy bathing suit and a fur-lined coat, which covered naught. Her choker held two iron chains across her ample bust mesmerized those who resided in the Alvarez Empire. She was a woman of phlegmatic nature, but Rahkeid always found their conversations to be intriguing.

He paused in front of the young Mage, letting his lips stretch into a greeting smile. “Hello, Brandish.”

Brandish looked up through her lids rather stoically. It was clear: she did not want to talk. “Rahkeid.” She attempted to move forward, but these particular hallways were narrow and Rahkeid’s mature figure blocked the way.

“Please move.”

“I wish to speak to you. Will you not indulge me for a moment?”

Brandish stared into the soft gaze of the prince. She had been ordered by Grandpa to honor him on all grounds, as he was the heir to throne and the emperor's son. Perhaps she could give this petty know-it-all a bit of her time.

Sighing with exasperation, the greenette snapped a hip to the side and placed a hand on it, waiting. “Well?”

He smiled brighter. She was impatient. Another wonderful trait he attributed to her. Rahkeid turned his body to the side and gestured a hand to the oval doorway in front of him. “Please, I wish to attend the gardens for a moment. You must understand, I am having quite the stressful day. Clearing my head with a companion will do the job somewhat.”

Biting the inside of her cheeks, Brandish frowned with the slightest showing and swiftly turned on her heel, turning back into the direction she came from.

“I must inform you, prince.” Brandish almost spat out. “I’ve already been to the gardens, so please choose someone else to walk with. You have no business with me.”

Chuckling under his breath, Rahkeid followed after the young maiden, clasping his hands behind his back. “Believe me, Brandish, after nearly ten years of dealing with you in Lord August’s lessons, I think you and I have more than enough business to discuss.”

She snorted. Opening and closing her fingers expertly, the walls of the hallway suddenly began to widen and shrink back to its original size, nearly crushing their forms. However, Rahkeid did not waver. His reaction to her magic was nothing short of daily occurrence.

He knew Brandish wished to crush him into a pulp. She had outright stated it when they were children. Their insults were greetings towards one another and Brandish’s spiteful comments sought to slam down the prince’s confidence, but August eventually stopped the exchange. Instead, a cold glare was replaced.

Finally, the couple reached the arch where the door opened way to the luminous gardens. In truth, these gardens were none like any other ever grown. Vegetation of every kind was brought up here; any flower imagined sprout forth in the soil; trees and thistles of all species enumerated themselves among the corners of the walls bordering its beauty.

Brandish stood near the opening and crossed her arms, waiting for the prince to dismiss her. But he only nudged her forward from behind, walking around her in a smooth manner. Rahkeid had no qualms about her opinion of him, but he really needed someone of age to converse with him. If he did not, he was sure insanity would overtake him fully.

He didn’t understand why his father didn’t just do the job for him: absorb as much magic as he can, teach August some incredible tricks, and defeat Acnologia as well as taking Fairy Heart for himself. Someone touched him. It was Brandish.

Realizing her action was not in sync with her usual stoic character, the greenette turned away, a slight blush coating her precious milky cheeks. Rahkeid looked down on her, blinking.

How strange. What if he just…

“T-think nothing of it,” Brandish forced out. She crossed her arms, heaving her chest up to her collarbone. Rahkeid’s eyes followed carefully. “It was an accident.”

“Uh huh.”

Walking faster now, Brandish forced the prince to run a little after her to pace up with her gait. She did not want to be near him now. All he would think about is her touch and never let her live it down as long as she lived. If that was even long…

“Brandish,” Rahkeid called. Brandish did not stop. To annoy the man, she slowly picked up her pace until she was running at full speed. Heaving an annoyed sigh (but smirking to himself), the prince ran after the young maiden. 

Turning back to see if he left her alone, Brandish was aghast to see that the prince was chasing after her...and fast. God, did Grandpa teach him Slowing Magic as well? Well, too bad for him she had magic of her own to use. Command T would not fail her now, as a matter of eluding a prince was at stake and she was sure somewhere between the cracks of the palace walls, servants watched giddily at the escapade the two were having.

Suddenly, Brandish was no longer five feet and eight inches; she was a scaling thirty-foot woman, towering high above Vistarion’s mosques. Rahkeid skidded to a an abrupt stop as he paused to catch his breath and glance up at the giant woman soaring way over his own height.

“Oho?” He smiled breathlessly. Needless to say, Brandish had accidentally given the young man quite the view when she stood over him. “Playing dirty now, are we?”

Closing her thighs together and crossing her arms once more, Brandish glared down at the prince. Now was the perfect time to squash him like the bug he was. All she had to do was fake cry and apologize to Grandpa that it was an accident and the young prince merely got in her way while she experimented with her magic.

Aha, but what of the Emperor? He would not be so forgiving towards his son's death. Some son. Brandish’s plans for Rahkeid’s demise would have to wait. Perhaps after the war was over...

Reluctantly, Brandish shrank back to her normal size, facing the man, but looking down onto her ample bust. Was she ashamed? No, that couldn’t be it...Conceivably, she was simply awaiting for him to incite the conversations for the first time in their quarrels. Waiting for a response was too concerning for the Mage’s impatience, especially when the sassy tongue of the prince had no wit to give to her when it should. 

Silence. When would he speak already?

A breath. “The winds have grown quite calm today, wouldn’t you say, Brandish?”

Brandish froze. Where had she heard such a line? Racking her brain to find an answer while still looking down, Brandish delved deep into the nostalgic memories of her childhood with August’s lessons in the history of Alvarez.

Ah, the poem Grandpa spoke about when depicting an irate woman who was never satisfied with her lot, until she lost her possessions one by one did she appreciate the little things in life. The phrase ‘the winds have grown quite calm today’ was used when two fishermen who narrated the story spoke to one another about the character development of the woman.

Of course, the ‘winds’ they referred to was not the actual weather breeze, but the attitude of the woman’s natural annoyed perspective on life. Wondering how the phrase alluded to her, Brandish quizzically looked up to peer at the prince, hoping he would expand on his direct comment on her.

Instead, he raised a finger to her chin, tipping it slightly towards his face, evening their lip levels. Green eyes widening in surprise, Brandish froze as Rahkeid leaned in, only stopping when their lips were mere centimeters apart. His eyes glinted a shiny haze of obsidian, giving him the bone-chilling resemblance of his father, the Emperor.

Exchanging breaths, Brandish once again waited for the prince to do something; her anxiety taking over her by the second, speeding up her labored breaths. Though she was on heels, Rahkeid scaled over her in height, his broad shoulders showing off his lean body that was worked since he hit adolescence. 

Stopstopstopstop. Enough. No. 

Was he leaning closer? No, slowly! The rat. Brandish’s mind screamed at her to sucker-punch the prince or at the very least, cordially shove him away from her purity as a Spriggan maiden. But her heart did not respond and thus took the authority of controlling her actions. It told her to wait, because all good things come to those who wait, didn’t it?

No, that was not true at all, but curiosity did kill the cat.

Linking herself back to reality as strange lips connected lightly with her own pair, Brandish’s mind had gone completely blank. No thoughts entered and no sound reigned with her ears. Every fiber of her body tingled with great delight as an internal demon raged against such an act of pomposity.

The kiss did not last long, and at last, Rahkeid pulled away fully, standing back as if he never committed any action. Opening her eyes wider in shock and speechlessness, nothing but a few sounds emitted from the young woman’s mouth. “Wha-”

“Now then,” Rahkeid clasped his hands together in a peaceful praying format, interrupting the Mage’s attempts to speak. Silencing her gently was what set her off. “I must be off. Thank you for accompanying me on my walk. This little play of ours was just what I needed.”

With that, he bowed formally and turned sharply on his heel to walk away. Stunned into rage and upsetment, Brandish took a step forward before the prince stopped and swiveled his head to glance her way.

He smiled cheekily. “Pleasure Magic is wonderful, is it not? I’m glad someone can appreciate the little blessings of this world.” 

Rahkeid spoke with sweet words, clouding the greenette’s mind. Of course, she was nothing but an experiment to toy with. Well, never again. The effects of his damned magic would wear off within the hours of the day and then she would avenge her lips…

As he walked away once more, Brandish placed a hand on her hip and glanced down at her curvaceous body, her gaze twinkled as she smirked to herself. Yes, her lips and maybe more. The prince would get a taste of true pleasure...sadism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I ship RaDish/BraKeiid. Blame @keiid on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a Part Two, do not fret, children.
> 
> I'm not crying, you are


End file.
